


villain

by chisakii_s



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Inspired by It's Okay Not To Be Okay, Inspired by Premonition of Love by peacchy on ao3, Pre-Canon, Shiratorizawa, Ushijima and Reader have a less extreme version of Gang Tae and Mun Yeong's relationship dynamic, Ushijima's 2nd year of high school, Work In Progress, also, lower case intended, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27291283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chisakii_s/pseuds/chisakii_s
Summary: "we all pretend to be the heroes on the good side, but what if we're the villains on the other?"ushijima meets the girl who he has to marry; she's hell bent on not getting married to him at all and is doing everything she can to break off their arrangement.
Relationships: Ushijima Wakatoshi/Original Female Character(s), Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	1. 00| emperor meets empress

hi everyone! this fanfiction was inspired both by peacchy's fanfiction on ao3, premonition of love, and by the k-drama "it's okay not to be okay." if anyone is familiar with it, the image i have for toshi and makoto would be similar to what mun yeong and gang tae have, but much, much less extreme and intense. what triggered this entire plot in my mind was when mun yeong said:

"safety pin and grenade: you're patient and i'm volatile."

and i said to myself: damn, that's a good baseline for an ushijima story!

for this fic i'm using a set name+appearance for the reader because it's easier for me to write that way

so with both that amazing fic and that gang tae/mun yeong in mind, i came up with an enemies-to-lovers, arranged marriage ushijima story! :D

please, if you guys read this, and check out peacchy's fic! it's a really amazing read and, like i said in the first part of this book, it's chef kiss, scrumptious, purely amazing, delicious, divine and every good thing! 

here's peacchy's ushijima x reader fanfic <3 : [premonition of love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704555/chapters/56915986)

comments are always appreciated! <3

* * *

ushijima nearly doesn't recognize her.

he'd seen her before in passing, during lunch time and dismissal when he was able to just barely catch a glimpse of her among the swarm of student bodies. her face was the same each time he saw her — a blank canvas that told nothing of the blending colours swirling beneath a polite smile. she had a certain presence that stood out even among shiratorizawa's prestigious crowd, one that commanded a path before her just as the red sea was split in two. each step she took sent her aura flooding into the bubble that seemed to surround her, that made her untouchable and kept anyone else from reaching out to her. _regal_. it was the word that ushijima first thought when they met during their first year, during a brief exchange of pleasantries when they crossed each other in an empty hallway. the black haired girl whose smile was like a faint brush of the wind, ushijima couldn't help but think that her eyes seemed lonely. just like the moon that shone so brightly in the night sky, it was destined to shine from a place far away, placed high up on a pedestal where no hand could ever hope to hold it closely.

ah, but that was none of his business. first year ushijima wakatoshi decided that he had better things to worry about.

it's at the beginning of his second year when he learns just how involved she would become in his life. as he presses his hands against his knees, he feels like his head might begin spinning when he meets the pair of midnight blue eyes staring back at him impassively. the uchida makoto that his mother introduces as his potential fiancé isn't the politely smiling girl that he saw in the hallways. instead, there's a cold, cold woman whose eyes burn like arctic ice, her countenance seeming to cause the cups of tea before them to turn cold and the hairs on the boy's neck to prick uncomfortably. what used to be a mere bubble that kept everyone else at arm's length was now a gaping chasm that sought to put as much distance possible between herself and ushijima's family.

"thank you for accepting our proposal, ushijima-san." the man that sits across from him and his mother has his back straight and a smile that means all business. uchida shinsuke's salt and pepper hair is combed back so that his handsomely aging face is framed nicely, and the black suit and wine red tie he dons is ironed to perfection. the king of sendai's downtown, he has the entire shopping district in a tight fist, managing malls and big shopping centers under a broad monopoly. there's a pride to his countenance that boasts his status, just like the heavy gold watch that sits on his left hand.

his daughter wears a dark blue that flutters loosely around her slender figure. her long black hair falls in gentle waves, tucked behind one ear to show off the dangling earrings that glitter like precious stones. her unsmiling lips are painted over with matte red lipstick and a silver bracelet adorns her slender wrist. like her father, she sits with her back straight, but she sits further forward on the edge of the seat, legs delicately tucked so that they're leaning aside from her body — ushijima assumes it's to accommodate the length of her heels. there's no mistaking the chill that seeps out of her body as she pointedly avoids looking in his direction, but he can't entirely find fault in her for being unhappy in their current situation.

"uchida-san," his mother politely nods her head at the man sitting across the coffee table, all pleasant airs and playing the respectful host that welcomed them into their living room. "it's a pleasure to have the both of you with us today." where the pair that sits inside her living room dress for a runway, ushijima chiyoko settles for a simple yet elegant white blouse and a broad, black skirt that spreads out loosely from her slender waist. just like makoto, she sits closely to the edge and folds her legs to the side of her body, with her hands neatly holding each other in her lap. ushijima himself doesn't boast much to his attire outside of the maroon button up shirt and his black pants. he doesn't see the purpose in over complicating his attire when he would be inside his own house.

not one to waste time with unnecessary small talk, his mother reaches for the manila folder that sat next to her, her white-painted fingers flipping through the pages that provides her with the information she needs for their arrangement.

"makoto-san," she calls out to the girl, momentarily pausing with her motions so that she could smile at her. "would you like to see the gardens while you wait? it'll take some time for your father and i to talk over the details of your engagement."

"oh, i don't mind—"

before she could offer her answer, her father's voice fills the space between them and silences her. ushijima doesn't miss the way her red lips press together or how the hand wearing the silver bracelet clenches into a fist. "that would be great, ushijima-san!" he says cheerfully, grinning as he eagerly urges his daughter up. "go ahead and stretch your legs for a bit, hm? get some fresh air."

accepting his response, his mother nods towards ushijima, still wearing the cordial smile that she gave to makoto. "show her to the gardens wakatoshi. it'll be good for you both to spend some time together."

"alright." he's never the son that should argue against his mother's word, and so he only exchanges a brief glance with his guests before rising from his seat, not checking to see if she followed behind him. the sound of her tall heels against his wooden floor is answer enough for him let's him know that she isn't far behind.

their journey through his house is silent, filled only with the click-clack of her thick heels as he guides her down the long hallway. ushijima himself doesn't try and break the barrier that stands between them, he can't bring himself to when his own mind is muddled with the thoughts of their current predicament. he's certain that she's thinking of it too when he glances to see her red-painted lips pursed tightly, void of that polite smile he got used to seeing her wear. her brows are furrowed and her eyes wouldn't lift to meet his stare, she keeps her gaze trained on the stretching length of hallway that lies ahead. even in her silence, ushijima can feel the traces of a violent storm that swirls beneath a curtain of midnight blue.

it's a strange feeling to consider everything that's happened so far, he thinks. _engaged,_ their hands promises to their families in marriage at the beginning of their second year in high school. the weight of it all feels bitter on his tongue as the words of his mother resurface in an unbidden memory.

"if you aren't going to continue our business, then i'll need to bring someone in who will."

something bubbles in his chest as recalls that night, a phantom of the burning sensation he felt when chiyoko issued to him an ultimatum. _"it's either you get married and bring someone into the family who can manage our business, or you quit volleyball and do it yourself."_ she left no room for argument, choosing to ignore the way her son's hands clenched over their dinner table, bidding him away with pointed indifference when he dismissed himself early from their meal. he knew she would think nothing of it, and that she expected him to go along with what she wanted of him like an obedient son.

she was right.

ushijima doesn't want to get married; that's the simple truth of everything. he's never even given thought to marriage or even a relationship before his mother brought it up to him three weeks ago. before then, he'd already dedicated his future to volleyball despite chiyoko's wish for him to go into their business, and that alone was an uphill battle that he'd just barely won against. now, he doesn't feel like this was something he could go against. he'd already pushed his luck by pursuing volleyball. surely his luck and stubborn streak would only carry him so far.

soon, he leads makoto to a sliding door, his hand reaching to fit into the crevice and pulling it to the side to reveal to them a part of the garden. the night air caresses his skin and brushes his hair back with the tenderness of an affectionate lover, yet it does very little to wash the tension away from his shoulders. a heavy breath falls from his lips as he mindlessly looks over the scenery before him. the silver light from the moon spills out over green grass blades and tree leaves, droplets of mercury and liquid metals flow down from flower petals and gather into puddles that shine like her dangling earrings on the pond surface.

"ushijima-san."

her voice is quiet when makoto calls to him from behind him, causing him to turn so that he could meet her eyes. she's beautiful, ushijima won't deny that. her skin soaks up the moonlight and looks almost as if it glowed, and her dark eyes shine with the reflection of the pond. even with her heels, she has to tilt her neck to see his face, and yet that did nothing to dull even a slight ounce of her presence. she's the picture of composure, an empress whose eyes are alight with her ambitions and her hunger to rule. regardless of their height difference, uchida makoto still holds herself up on her pedestal, refusing to hide herself in the face of a giant.

ushijima watches a dainty hand comes up to tuck a few strands of hair behind her left ear. even that action itself is careful, blending perfectly into the garden scenery that embraces her as if she were one of its own flowers. a gentle breeze flutters her dark blue dress so that it sways around her like an illusion; _she_ looks like an illusion, a figment of his imagination that appears to him on a cold and chilled evening. 

"call off the engagement."

and just as the night is cold, so is the voice that brings him from his waking dream, reminds him that the empress before him is an unwilling party in a business arrangement. a girl of sixteen, just about to enter her second year of high school who's being thrust into an arranged marriage by her father. she's the second main character in a story of teenagers born into business families, who could do nothing but obediently follow their parents' word as they built their futures together.

"i can't." he answers. it's a fact. he really can't argue with his mother. it's a fruitless endeavour, one he just barely managed to save himself from before carelessly throwing his bare neck to the butcher's blade. whatever he tries to say to his mother would only be met with a brick wall, and he would have no choice but to relent.

makoto doesn't seem to agree. he sees something light up in her eyes before she's able to reign it back in with a compressed inhale, one that barely manages to shift her shoulders out of place.

"try."

it's not a request. there's something so uncomfortably familiar about her tone that stirs the still waters of his chest, beneath which lurks the behemoth that comes out on the court. the one that spits in the face of his opponents with all the power and dominance befitting of a ruler. he's bewildered at the sensation — why does he feel it now of all places? he isn't competing for his team's spot in nationals, before him stands no formidable foe or hopeful adversary, so why does the hair on his neck prickle with that particular kind of thrill? clenching one large hand by his side, he regains his control and meets those midnight blue eyes once more.

"that's useless." his deep voice echoes across the open space. "i've already tried to talk to my mother. she won't change her mind." he doesn't wish to have a discussion like this, one where they would be doing nothing but circling around each other in a twisted, fruitless dance.

makoto's eyes flutter away for a quick second before returning to find his, her arms coming up to fold over her chest as her brows furrow just slightly. "listen, i really _don't_ want to get married off this way." she huffs. one finger begins to tap hastily against her upper arm. "it's the same for you, isn't it? if the both of us say something, they have to listen, don't they?"

ushijima has only ever seen confidence on her face, even when she was smiling and keeping the world outside the reach of her little bubble; there was never anything short of security in herself, no room left behind for something like doubt or fear to settle around her heart. and yet, as he sees her standing in his garden, he catches a glimpse of her glaciers breaking and crumbling down. what he sees is the slightest bit of that foreign fear and desperation flickering with the moonlight, and it comes and goes so quickly that he wonders if that, too, had merely been but a figment of his imagination.

shaking off the odd feeling that comes crawling up his neck, he presses his lips together and, just as she has her arms, brings his to fold over his broad chest. the motions cause his maroon shirt to pull tightly on his shoulders. "you already know that it won't work." he dismisses her, wishing that she would quickly drop the topic. "like i said — it's useless. my mother's determined to see this through and, from the looks of it, so is your father."

a beat of silence passes between them, makoto's cold eyes narrowing into a glare and her red lips pulling into a scowl. ushijima remains impassive in the face of her growing frustration — it wouldn't serve him any use to get angry, and he wishes that she would understand that as well. her chin tilts upwards so that she meets his eyes of olive leaves and deep green, and in them he catches the relentless fire that burns on a cold flame.

"i refuse to get married to you."

"you have to."

a scoff sounds out from behind her pursed lips. "i _don't,_ and i won't."

for the second time that night, ushijima feels the still waters of his heart stir up inside his chest with its overwhelming familiarity. it only grows stronger and more profound with each passing second that they hold each other's eyes for, and he wonders why it comes to him in a place like this. there is no net standing between them, and yet he feels his mind go numb with the pressure of contest and competition. the feeling is exactly the same that he gets whenever he meets teal and white jerseys on the court, when a certain setter so stubbornly glares at him from the other side of the net and spits in petty rebellion. it's the feeling that twists ushijima's heart as he watches that skilled player stomp on the hard, blaring truths that bind him to infertile soil — "aoba isn't a team that will allow you to grow," — refusing to listen to cold logic and bending willingly into his own ignorance. just like that grand king, the empress before him refuses to back down, dark blue eyes sharpened by a bitter knife and showing just the faintest hint at the burning flames that seek out destruction.

he's slow to realize it, but he feels incredibly, undoubtedly _annoyed_.

he draws a deep breath and closes his eyes, trying to quell the crashing waves that bash against his throat. the cool air helps him reign that annoyance into mild irritation so that when he opens his eyes again, he's able to remind himself that this isn't a match and she isn't competition. he's not on the court, he isn't spiking volleyballs over the net. there's no need to allow her under his skin like this. huffing the last bit of his intense emotions out through his nose, he looks away before she does and instead, chooses to watch the motionless surface of the pond beside them. he tries not to think of the way her eyes reflect the moonlight just like the water. "uchida-san," he starts, the words swimming slow in his mind like molasses. he chooses the ones that he thinks will get his point across in the most blunt, point blank manner. "it's better if you don't fight it."

he takes a chance to meet her eyes once more. what he sees there erases what calm he had managed to regain and lights a fire underneath his skin. even with her face as still and impassive as the surface of the pond, the glaring spikes of ice shine so brilliantly in her eyes and do nothing to hide the rapid beginnings of her fury and a merciless winter.

the empress is livid, but—

"give up."

the emperor was never one to back down.

it starts slowly, like a phantom that brushes its finger against the throne of the reigning monarch, but the smile that crawls across her red lips is unmistakable. it's the one she gives to her classmates and teachers, cordial and polite, and he sees the uchida makoto who greeted him in the hallway. and yet, it's different. this smile brandishes bitterness and stubborn will, sharpened by rebellion and lined with poison. she hums and maintains her locked gaze with him as she draws closer. her footfalls are quiet atop the grass — one, two, it takes exactly seven steps for her to stand directly in front of him, forcing him into her bubble so that all he sees is her. her lips part and he finds that his eyes follow each curve and shape that she makes with them as the smell of sugar and vanilla invades his senses.

"you know," her tone is sickly sweet and drips with dark honey. her very image before him is a great deception, her smile lies to him and fills his mind up with the picture of the lonely school girl he sees between assemblies and during dismissal. but her midnight blue eyes lay bare to him every sharp spear of ice that lurks beneath warm waters; they pierce beneath his flesh from this close to draw drops of molten lava from his blood.

"i never took ushijima wakatoshi for a spineless coward."

_look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it._

ushijima refuses to be the first to back down from whatever she initiated, determined not to be the first to walk away from this petty competition she started. her eyes search his face languidly, as if picking apart his walls and laying whatever she finds there is nothing but a pass-time to her, as if what she sees doesn't even begin to impress her. just as she did before, he says his words slowly. they rumble out in deep timbers that vibrate in the depths of his chest.

"it's cowardly to see the truth staring right at you and refuse to accept reality for what it is."

makoto chuckles, her eyes fluttering downwards in a brief moment before she returns them to meet his. "does believing that make it easier for you to accept this?"

he doesn't give a response, she doesn't wait for one. with all her grace and elegance, makoto turns on her heels and walks away from him with silent footfalls, her form glowing under the moonlight as she gets farther and farther from him. _regal,_ he remembers the first time he met her for no more than a few seconds, when she smiled at him and nodded her head so politely. now, as he stands beneath the watchful moon and her bed of stars, he thinks that the word is no less adequate in describing her, but he learned more about the mysterious empress whose hand is promised to him in marriage. with only the night sky as their witness, she showed to him a cold and ambitious ruler who refuses to bend to the will of someone else, be it a parent or destiny.

something about that stubbornness drives cold knives beneath his skin and twists with an irritating persistence that he wants to silence. it perplexes him in every sense of the word as to why she fights so viciously against something that she must have known couldn't be changed. ushijima knows all too well that their marriage would be inevitable, no matter if he kicks or screams or claws his way out of it. his rebellion would change nothing, and he doesn't say that out of pessimism. it's the cold and unchanging truth; he wishes that makoto would also realize that as well, that she would wake up from her idealistic dream and come face to face with reality. 

with his head turned up toward the sky, he sighs, feeling the exhaustion of a long and intense rally wash over him. the sensation causes his head to spin and leaves him dazed in the wake of her departure. yes, uchida makoto is regal, he doesn't deny that fact, but he believes that she's delusional and stubborn.

how is he meant to marry someone like that?


	2. 01| he's persistent; she's stubborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ushijima has an idea, but makoto doesn't believe it's as brilliant as he thinks it is.

"uchida-san."

makoto is tempted to ignore the tall figure that stands outside her classroom, feeing the beginnings of irritation well up inside her throat as she meets ushijima's dispassionate olive eyes. she can't imagine what reason he would have to ambush her like this on the first day of school, but she decides immediately that she wants no part in it, or anything to do with him. as if she hadn't seen or heard him, she averts her gaze and makes to walk pass him, hoping that he would take the hint and leave her alone.

the hand that grabs for her wrist tells her that he, in fact, _didn't_ get that clear hint. _is he dense or just ignorant?_ the question pops up in her mind before she can stop it. his fingers wrap easily around her smaller wrist and prevents her from leaving; he chooses to ignore the few curious eyes that glance in their direction for only a handful of seconds before they are pulled back into conversation with their companions, quickly forgetting about the pair of students who hovered by class 2-1's front door.

she turns to him with a scowl, pulling her hand out from his loose grasp. _"what??"_

ushijima, undeterred by her cold reception, retracts his outstretched hand to his side and nods his head ever so slightly towards her in polite greeting. "i need to talk to you," he says simply, not attempting to elaborate on what it is that he wants to talk about. makoto, however, doesn't need him to.

"if it's not about calling off the engagement, ushijima-san, then i don't want to hear about it." the words are cool on her tongue and swift in their delivery as she pointedly avoids his stare, wishing that he would quickly leave her alone. "don't you have to be in your class soon? homeroom's about to start."

"i would have come earlier but i had morning practice," is his unhelpful answer. makoto loudly scoffs. "i already said that neither us can call off this engagement, but that's what i came to talk to you about. i have a solution."

the girl makes an obvious show of her disinterest and apathy when she glances back up at him, waiting on him to tell her what he has in mind so that she could quickly shut him down and go about her day.

"we should become better acquainted."

for a few seconds, makoto's brain comes to a full stop, his words making their rounds in her mind like broken syllables of a foreign language. become better acquainted? the corners of her mouth stretch upwards into an ingenuine smile. "why," she hums slowly, "would we become better acquainted if we're not going to get married?" her voice drips with a false sweetness, head leaning ever so slightly to the side as she narrows her eyes at him. the picture of the polite uchida makoto returns, the one who wears simple earrings over extravagant chains and wears her school uniform exactly as the rules dictate. the bitterness and contempt that she feels, however, belong to empress makoto, not makoto the second year student.

she can't figure out if ushijima is just awfully dense or chooses to ignore her prickly attitude, but she can tell that even his patience is beginning to stretch thin when she hears a slight strain to his normally even, borderline deadpan voice. "as much as you'd like to pretend it won't happen, it will unless our parents say otherwise."

the coy smile on her lip doesn't disappear. "it _won't,_ ushijima-san." she insists, hardening her tone in the face of his stubborn insistence. "if you've come here just to waste my time, then you can leave now. don't come looking for me again."

without waiting for him to speak again, makoto turns her back to him and enters her classroom, not looking back to check if he's still standing there by the time she gets to her desk. there's a headache that begins to form behind her closed eyes and a compressed sigh pushes through her nose. it's a battle for her to recompose herself in time as her classmates break out from their groups and trickle back into the room, all the chatter of their holiday activities falling into background noise that filters through her mind, muted against the scalding memory of ushijima's words.

_"it's cowardly to see the truth staring right at you and refuse to accept reality for what it is."_

she feels her teeth grind behind her lips as the small embers of anger swirl around inside her chest. if her unwillingness to accept this hand that destiny dealt to her should make her a coward, then she would wear the name like golden armor, her pride be damned.

let it never be said that uchida makoto grew with disobedience and rebellion. in every sense of the word, she could be considered the golden child, the bright little girl who succeeds academically and never walks far from her parent's light. when her father forbade her from picking up modeling as a hobby, she nodded her head and accepted in silence. when he berated her for wanting to begin dance in her free time, she agreed that she could be better spending her time working under his empire. never had a single word of argument left from her lips, and she continued to be the ever obedient child.

however, she couldn't find it within herself to obey, to do as she's told, when her father announced rather unceremoniously that she would be getting married. "consider it a business investment," he'd said to her at the time, pouring over his tablet with a steaming cup of late night coffee in his hands. he wouldn't even lift his gaze to meet makoto's confused stare, talked so casually as if he were updating her on the current concerns for his business plans. reflecting back, makoto bitterly considers that he must have considered marrying off his only daughter as nothing more than such.

that night had been the very first time she ever talked back to him, unshed tears burning her eyes as her father looked on in scalding indifference. "what's wrong with you, makoto?" his voice was filled with accusation, sounding as if he were lecturing a young child who fussed at the candy store; he looked at his daughter as if she were a stranger. "you've never acted like this before — get ahold of yourself!" he expected her to smile and nod, to accept without battle or fanfare and to hold her head low just like she'd always done before. the silver colour of his eyes turned harsh and searing like hot metals pressed against her throat, marring her skin until she would bend and submit.

for the first time in her life, makoto thinks of rebelling.

and so, when she first meets ushijima wakatoshi, she forsakes the docile schoolgirl and presents herself as the cold, cold ruler who keeps the world blocked out by a wall of ice. she doesn't give him the polite nods that she gives to her schoolmates and asks for him to end their engagement. _"try,"_ she'd said, battling to keep the throws of desperation from seeping between her cracks and exposing her core. the pleas that hung on the very tip of her tongue had threatened to tumble out from her heart and reveal the exemplary child who dances on her father's tune. as hard, olive eyes met her silently beseeching gaze, she did her best to hide that child away and force her into the deepest corners of her heart, sealed her lips with the red fabric of pride when his words locked around her throat like a vice.

_"it's better if you don't fight it."_

_"give up."_

heavens above, makoto wanted to reach out to him and grab his shirt, to shake him until the both of them were sprawled out against the grass and scream out with the rage and bitterness that settled in her chest like a giant boulder. until her words latched on to something, anything that could make ushijima change his mind.

yet uchida makoto, as prideful and stubborn as she might be, couldn't deny the truth of his words.

the little girl that she keeps locked behind the iron doors of her heart knows that he's right; that it doesn't matter how much she refuses or fights against him, that the final decision would remain with her father and with ushijima's mother. it's hypocritical of her, truly, that she would push for her supposed fiancé to lift his voice against his family when she'd gone through so much of her life under the same, helpless obedience that she sees in him.

the chime of the morning bell only barely pulls her back to the present, where she is seated inside her classroom instead of standing in a midnight garden. she sighs and straightens her back, using one hand to softly push her black hair over her shoulders and checks once more that she'd muted her phone. with some effort, she tries to regain her bearings, clears her head with a slow count to ten so that by the time her homeroom teacher steps through the door, she's collected her pleasantries and calls for her classmates to "rise; bow — good morning, teacher!" she pushes through the fifteen minutes of homeroom attendance and the start of the school year assembly that follows. she acts as the quiet-spoken and respectful second year, doing her best to forget her responsibilities and obligations as a daughter for the time she spends taking notes and reciting story lines. she forgets about business marriages and ushijima wakatoshi in favour of studying difficult math formulas and complicated science terms; she abandons the obedient child to become the exemplary student.

after that first day of school, she makes it a point to avoid him at every turn.

it isn't difficult to do; she keeps her head straight when she passes by in the hallways, ignores his eyes that so pointedly search for hers as he tries to call out to her. she'll always give him a faux smile when she steps around his broad frame, an insincere "i'm busy right now, ushijima-san," coming from her honey-coated lips as she bows ever so slightly in a show of mock politeness. she avoids entering her classroom before homeroom periods so that she doesn't bump into him while he's waiting to ambush her. it certainly isn't _difficult_ to ignore ushijima wakatoshi, but his persistence is quick to wear at her already thinning patience.

"is everything alright, uchida-san?" a classmate approaches her during one particular lunch time as she's checking her phone. sweet and soft-spoken class prefect arata kyoya is hesitant with her words and slightly lowers her head as if she's afraid to talk to her peer. when makoto gives her a cordial smile, her shoulders relax a little and she works up the courage to elaborate on her question, a hand coming to tuck silver hair behind her ears.

"it's just that... well, ushijima-san has been looking to speak with you for the past week." her green eyes shy away from dark blues. "i know it's not my place to ask, but as the class prefect i just wanted to make sure that he isn't causing you any trouble—"

"there's no problem, arata-san," makoto's voice is gentle when she responds, her charming smile is enough to stop the silver haired girl's words. she doesn't try to explain any further, chooses to leave the vague statement as answer enough; it does its job in pacifying the kind-hearted class prefect who bobs her head once and smiles brightly.

"thank you for all your hard work, like always."

"it's no problem!" arata beams like the sun. "just let me know if there's anything you need done and i'll speak to a teacher or the grade coordinator."

behind her smile, makoto is cursing at ushijima's stubborn insistence.

so she decides to relent, to allow him just a moment to hear him out in hopes that she can say what she needs to say for him to leave her alone. she waits for him at the entrance of her classroom door during lunch period, where he meets her with a small bento box sitting warmly in her hands. they don't exchange a single word between them as she allows him to lead her to an outside corridor, where they choose one of the free benches to eat their lunch.

after she swallows a slice of cheese omelette, she speaks first. "could you not hang around my classroom like that? my classmates are starting to get worried."

ushijima glances at her from his left, his mouth busy around his rice. ""you kept avoiding me when i needed to talk to you," he states simply. "so i kept coming back."

makoto sighs; she can feel her headache returning. "well, i'm here now. say what you need to say."

her companion nods and turns himself so that he's slightly facing her instead of looking out at one of the vending machines. "we," he pauses, feeling his next words heavy on his tongue. it's an odd sensation, he considers; he'd had the words in his mind for the entire week that she'd been avoiding him. the fight to get them out is unfamiliar and unsettling. "i think we should become acquainted with each other for this arrangement between us. it'll be better than for us to be uncomfortable around each other." and ushijima really did think a lot on that choice. at first, he didn't see an obligation to avoid any awkwardness between them. after all, as far as he's aware, their marriage is nothing but a business arrangement between their families rather than one done in romance. however, once he considers that he would basically be marrying a stranger, the thought just doesn't sit right with him and causes his stomach to churn uncomfortably. he'd never given much thought to marriage before, what with his plans of playing professional volleyball filling his mind for the future, but he hadn't imagined that it would happen in this way, if at all. he isn't an idealist, so there was no fantasy that crashed down around him when he heard the news, but the absence of that very far off possibility of perhaps meeting someone to spend his life with caused his chest to burn with something he couldn't put a name to.

"we wouldn't have to," makoto starts. her voice is neither of the ruling empress or the polite school girl, or even the petty second year who likes to lie with saccharine smiles. it's near empty and desolate, and sounds like the cold wind on night desert sands. ushijima doesn't think he's met this makoto before. "if we just didn't get married."

he watches as she takes a bite out of a bacon and enoki mushroom wrap, and he recognizes the appreciation that crosses her lips for the taste of it. for a moment, she doesn't look so cold.

"you must know, don't you?" he asks. something tells him that he doesn't need to elaborate for her to know what he means, but he does it anyway, just to be thorough and clear. "you know that fighting this way is useless." he searches midnight blue eyes, truly beseeching an answer. "so why do you do it?"

slowly, makoto lowers her chopsticks, and turns her eyes away. the entire time that she's sitting next to him, she's kept her back straight, looks just like the picture of the empress that met him on that night in his garden. and yet, her voice still doesn't fill with the commanding power that she showed to him back then. now, it's still far away from any versions of herself that she'd showed to him. he thinks to himself that wants to learn about this makoto, too.

"you're right," she tells him. "i know that me trying like this won't do anything to stop us getting married but this time... this time i don't want to do what my father says. i've been doing it all this time, and i've never once disobeyed but i don't think i can just go along with this decision."

ushijima knows what she means. it's how he felt during his final year in junior high, when his mother demanded for him to quit playing volleyball. for the first time, he rebelled and pushed back, refused to let go of the one thing he held close to his heart; clutched on to the memories that kept him connected to his father as if his life depended on it. and to him, it did. ushijima couldn't ever see himself giving up on volleyball, not when he was so close to becoming the ace that his father'd told him stories of. he was desperate, and as he sits with makoto, he sees that same desperation burning like bright embers beneath arctic ice.

normally, ushijima is a person who doesn't believe in a futile struggle or baseless confidence. he scorns the very notion of pushing against towering mountains and hoping for a miracle, and when he first met uchida makoto, he believed that she was just a stubborn girl who couldn't accept a simple, obvious reality; that her fight would be in vein. and yet, he sees the him who pushed against the same mountains that she pushes back against. even now, the same mountain presents itself to him in the form of an ultimatum: _marry her or quit volleyball and pursue the business yourself_. had he not had to risk the sport that had bound itself so closely to his soul, wouldn't he fight against it too? if he should spit down on her resistance, wouldn't that make him a hypocrite?

he doesn't know how to answer her, but he hopes that she can somehow sense that he understands.

twenty minutes pass them by in silence, their time spent eating their lunches and their conversation hanging over their heads like a weighted cloud ready to burst with water. it isn't suffocating or awkward, but there's a very pressing knowledge that it's there, and ushijima doesn't know if it's better to break the silence between them or to leave it be. will the cloud bring chilled drops of snow that fall from the northern sky? or will they be drenched with a sweet summer's rain? the question bounces around in his head as he finishes his last bite of food, his hands methodically packing away his chopsticks and bento box.

"are you thirsty?"

the question is so sudden that it startles him if only slightly, though he doesn't show it when he turns an inquisitive stare to the girl who sits next to him; his supposed fiancé. she doesn't return his stare and instead rises to her full height — she's graceful and elegant even in such minimal movement. "i'm gonna go grab a drink from the vending machine."

ushijima gives nothing but a noncommittal hum as he stands up and follows after her, towards the drink machines that are only a few steps away from where they ate lunch. belatedly, he notices that she's considerably shorter without her heels, reaching just by his chest when before she would at least be by his shoulders. it's such an irrelevant piece of information, completely trivial, he muses, but he stuffs it in a far corner of his mind and lets it dwell there quietly.

he allows her to go first. she inserts her coins and presses the number code for a bottle of non-carbonated strawberry drink. the thunk by the bottom of the machine has her stooping down to retrieve it.

"why don't you fight it?"

even with the vague nature of her question, ushijima understands quickly what she refers to as he punches in a code for a small jelly packet. he thanks her when she comes back standing with his drink in her hands. "my mother's giving me an ultimatum," his answer is blunt, his hands easily wrap around the cap and twists it open with little effort. "she says that if i don't marry someone who can inherit the business when she steps down then i have to quit volleyball and do it myself."

a hum comes from makoto's pursed lips, they're turned down in something like a pensive frown as she twists open her bottle. it's a bit of a struggle for her and she has to tighten her hold in order to open it; ushijima doesn't miss the way that her eyebrows furrow in her small moment of struggle before they smooth over once she's opened her drink. she glances at him with her question on her tongue. "is it that important to you? that you'd walk into an arranged marriage for volleyball?"

"it means a lot to me." he says, firm in his conviction. makoto takes a sip of her drink and doesn't push him for further answers, choosing to take his word for what it is. after a few seconds pass them by, she sighs.

"can i be honest?"

taking ushijima's silent nod as her go ahead, she allows her words to leave her lips, unrestrained and entirely transparent when she says, "i don't get how it could be so important to sacrifice something as big as this."

for a moment, the wheels in ushijima's head stop turning and his thoughts suddenly fall into a loud silence. he's baffled, miffed, absolutely _floored_ , because he thinks this might be the first time someone had said something like that to him. somewhere in his mind, he might have considered that volleyball isn't as important to others as it is to him, but to hear it and to be aware of it are two different things. was it really that... extreme? for him to clutch so tightly onto something that meant more than the world to him? the jelly packet hangs dumbly between his lips as he looks at her with an expression that could only be described as horrified, and when makoto finally glances over to see why he'd suddenly fallen silent, laughter bubbles up from between her lips in an abrupt moment of shock that startles them both.

"wow, you look like i just insulted your grandmother!" she giggles as she ducks her face away, doing little Rocco seal the spots of red that show up across her cheeks and nose. ushijima thinks she might as well had offended his grandmother, rather than simply telling him that she doesn't understand why volleyball matters to him so much. there's a distant thought that he doesn't know which would be worse. "listen, it's understandable to be passionate about volleyball, but to go as far as to walk into an arranged marriage?" when her laughter dies out, she sighs on a wistful air, turning her head back to him and smiling. this one doesn't look like the polite smile that he sees her wear so often. "though i guess that's what it means to have something important to you to the point of making a sacrifice like that."

the smile she wears now is gentle, and for a moment, he thinks he sees _something_ past the cracks in ice glaciers that glitters in the winter sunlight.

"it must be nice to have something you care about so much."

there's _something_ in her voice that gives him pause, _something_ about her tone that pulls at his heart and doesn't let go. "you don't?" he asks. when she shakes her head, the something around his heart pulls tighter.

"i didn't have the chance to," makoto's confession comes after she takes another sip of her drink. "i wanted to get into modeling in junior high — i was offered a contract and everything. but my father said that it wasn't a 'real' job and started including me under his malls to work and learn there instead." another sigh leaves from her lips, this one sounds just a bit more weighted than the others. "he said that if i was so interested in fashion, then i should work on the sales side instead of just wearing the clothes. last year he even gave me three stores in one of his malls to manage when he thought i was good enough. said that if i was ready after university, then he would be willing to split his empire into thirds me, my brother and himself until either of us was ready to inherit."

she laughs; the sound is bitter and hurting, though her face doesn't show. "well, that was until he planned to have me married off."

ushijima doesn't fill the space that her words leave behind for some time, his mind filtering through the information and his eyes remain on her even as she looks out aimlessly around their school. around them, there's a pocket universe, where they've become boxed off from the rest of their world and sent to a place where time stops moving. above them, the sun shines as brightly as it always does in spring, but here in their tiny space, he feels the same chilling winds that keeps the universe away from uchida makoto, the one that pushes out those polite smiles and lying pleasantries.

and yet, ushijima thinks that as he's watching her face, searching each pull of her lips and the way her dark blue eyes drink up the sunlight, that there's something peaking out from behind those clouds of cold mist. there's a version of herself that is too hesitant to expose her heart on its silver platter, the one that's always sealed her lips shut and allowed dark holes to consume her desires until all that remained was an empty husk. it's sad and pitiful and strangely enchanting all at once, and he finds that he has to search almost pressingly to see her, and at the same time she stands before him in plain sight.

ushijima wants to bring that makoto to stand on top of her ice glaciers.

he takes one deep breath, feels his chest filling with air and prepares himself for the words that he would say next. "join the volleyball team."

makoto's head whips around quickly, disturbing the peaceful strands of black hair that settled around her face.

"huh?"

the sound comes from her lips in a single, dumb notion that forces ushijima to hide a small grin. that reaction is certainly new, though that, too, is stashed to the back of his brain as he says, "you don't have anything that is important to you, right?" he doesn't see or hear her respond, but he pushes on. "if you join the club, you can see what it's like to have something like that — something that you care about enough to sacrifice something big."

it's slow and uncertain in its beginnings, but an incredulous, disbelieving grin stretches across makoto's lips. is he serious? he isn't, right? he couldn't be! and yet, the voice in her head reminds her that ushijima wakatoshi doesn't appear to be the joking kind of person — the deadpan expression he wears is enough to erase all doubt from her mild and allows her to draw a quick breath. shaking her head, she dismisses him easily. "no thanks."

"why not?"

"ushijima-san," she sighs. she sounds as if she's preparing to talk to a stubborn child. "for one, i don't have a single athletic bone in my body—"

he cuts her off quickly. "you don't need one. become our manager."

makoto's lips purse and her eyebrows furrow; ah, here he is. the ushijima wakatoshi who lurked by her classroom door and pestered her until she finally agreed to meet with him. the stubborn, hard-headed boy who wouldn't let her escape. his reappearance causes the ice in her blood to run hot and gather on her tongue, her own spite and pettiness eager to shoot him down.

"what am i even going to do as a manager? i've never played before — i don't know any of the rules."

"you don't need to."

"for the love of _god_ , ushijima-san!" exasperation is clear in her voice when she groans out. "what brought this on all of a sudden??"

this time, he can't help that tiny grin from pulling at his lips, and the sight of it caused makoto's head to stop spinning for a quick second. was he enjoying this?

"if you don't have something important to you, then i can show you mine," he explains. to him, it's a foolproof idea, brilliant if he wants to pop his own collar. "if you can see what it's like for me to love volleyball, then maybe you can find something that you love too."

makoto stares, really _stares_ up at the boy beside her, her mouth hanging with words she can't find immediately. "does... does your brain _only_ run on volleyball or something?" it's as if he believed it to be some universal solution. "ushijima-san, i don't see how watching you throw a bunch of volleyballs around is going to change anything, and anyways," she recaps her drink and stands up, glancing at him from the side. her countenance as the polite and cordial schoolgirl returns, and just like that, she throws ushijima out from her space to keep him across that glaring chasm once more. he sees the same stubborn refusal that he'd seen when asking for her time all throughout the week, and he anticipates that he'll see it more often as time goes on. "it certainly won't help to get us out of this situation."

before he lets her leave, ushijima opens his mouth to call out to her. he's standing up before he can stop himself as she turns around to meet his eyes. for the second time that day, the clock stops moving, freezes just as their lunch hour is called on its end. he knows that she'll go back to avoiding him as soon as she steps outside this space; he knows that her stubborn battle against her universe would only continue as soon as she turns her back, so he takes a chance to tell her before she vanishes.

he says to the makoto who lays under the cold surface of ice waters: "think about it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhh thank you to everyone who's read this so far! and thank you to user @River for leaving me a comment! it means so much that you guys are enjoying this and i'm excited for you all to see more of what i have planned! in that mindset, i'll do my best to work hard and keep this interesting for everyone! <3 really, thank you for reading this!!


	3. 02| heavy is the head that wears the crown

there are times where makoto feels as if the world moves too quickly, barreling ahead like a bullet train that's flying off course and tearing itself from its tracks. it goes and goes until it turns on its side, the screaming of metal drowning beneath torrential rains that don't care for the accident that happens under grey clouds. and in the midst of the catastrophe, she stands caught between flying chunks of burning iron and sparks that singe her hair and mar her skin, trapped by a whirlwind of disaster that robs her of her breath and chokes the screams from her fighting lungs.

ignoring ushijima wakatoshi quickly wears her down as it drags on through her days, becoming a battle that tangles its fingers into the roots of her hair and forces her neck to turn until she couldn't look away. he's so persistent and relentless in his chase that it's dizzying, and it pushes the thought of how desperate he must be to play volleyball that he needs her to understand his why. the reason why he would walk into a marriage bound by income and contract, he's fighting to pull her gaze toward it, he's screaming at her in the request he poses when he tells her on steady ocean waves, "come to practice and watch me." and makoto, with all her hard-headedness and stubborn graces, even her spirit grows frustrated with a dance she doesn't want any part in.

she clenches her teeth behind her lips as she glances down at her phone screen, the display of her father's text messages lighting dark blue eyes under white light before she closes the screen and pockets the device and turns her gaze to the boy that waits for her at her classroom door. his olive green eyes are a forest that swallows up entire mountains, his hair the meadow that dances on the evening's gentle wind. before her stands summer's child, who's looking at her with so much force of will that it threatens to melt the northern ice that guards her heart. but makoto, she releases one icy breath and reinforces her strongholds, guards herself against his scalding heat and retaliates with the flames of a merciless winter.

"i don't have time right now, ushijima-san," she supplies him curtly, doing nothing to fight away the irritation that shows on her furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. "and i'd already told you, hadn't i? i'm not interested in volleyball."

when she meets his gaze, she finds the annoying hard-headedness that led him to tail her throughout the week, the one that constantly wraps its hands around her throat and pulls her into him so that she can't escape no matter how hard she tries. he's steadfast in his countenance, unwavering in the face of her barriers, and yet the calm ocean roars out from between his lips and threatens to drown her with its waters when he says, "you're being unreasonably stubborn."

ah. she feels a fire burn hot on the sides of her head at his words. _she_ was the one being stubborn? a scoff bubbles out from her lips, she's unable to hide the bemused smile. ushijima can't help but notice the way her dimples cause deep indents on her cheeks. the sight of them, although an endearing picture, does very little to quell the burning ice that he sees in her eyes.

"living without something you care about," he begins again, his voice firm and carrying with the confidence of the team's ace, the one whose back commands respect and undermines doubt. he becomes the emperor who's self assured in his truth and preaches it in an undisputed gospel. "is the same as living without purpose."

makoto's smile turns cynical. "how kind of you to worry about me like that," she sarcastically hums, lifting her arm to glance at the leather watch on her wrist. "listen, it's not your responsibility to worry over whether or not i'm living a fulfilling life, okay? it shouldn't be any of your concern."

there's a call of ushijima's name from down the crowded hallway, a familiar "wakkun!" from behind him that has makoto's gaze flicker in the direction it comes from before she returns to him with her sardonic smile. "i'll be going now, ushijima-san," she says, the politeness in her voice does little to hide the sharp knife that severs their conversation before she walks away from him. her departure's just in time for his teammate to fling one arm around his shoulder; it takes ushijima a moment to tear his gaze away from her figure as she easily walks down the sparsely crowded hallway, passing by students and bowing towards the teacher she passes all while getting farther away from him. he has to consciously shake the image of her back from his mind before he turns his head to find vermillion eyes.

"tendou."

boy of red hair and pale skin, tendou satori's eyes are narrowed as he watches after the girl that had been speaking with his declared best friend. "what's taking you so long?" he asks on a curious note, though his eyes don't follow to the boy next to him until makoto's figure disappears down the stairs. he remembers seeing her around school — she has a presence that's hard not to notice, after all. a cold, cold girl whose smile belies the shards of ice that shroud her like a barricade. he finds ushijima with a contemplative frown and his eyebrows furrowed in thought, and the expression that he sees only fan the embers of curiosity that begin to burn in his chest. it's a look that he's seen over and over, when ushijima meets the captain of the opposing team to shake hands; the one where his olive eyes ignite under a summer flame that seeks to destroy and rebuild entire worlds until the only one left standing on the court is him, the reigning victor and undisputed champion. tendou wonders why his companion aims that look towards makoto's departing figure.

he decides that he wants to find out what's going on between them

"what's got you making that face, wakkun?" he starts with a question, narrows his eyes at ushijima with a low hum riding on his voice. the boy in question gives him a single glance, his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"this is my normal face, tendou."

"nuh-uh!" tendou is quick to dispute that claim. "you look like you're about to start an intense match right now!"

he watches the expression on ushijima's face melt into something pensive, as if he's turning tendou's words around in his mind, and the redhead watches him silently; observes each tick of his brows and the way his lips decisively press together as he looks back at the direction that makoto left. could this be considered a match, he wonders? a battle of will, perhaps? a test to see whose walls would be the first to crumble and fall apart in the face of the other's stubborn pursuit?

oddly enough, the thought amuses ushijima, brings a thoughtful smile to his lips when he meets tendou's eyes once more. "ah," he rumbles out, the sound is akin to a faint chuckle. in his chest, he feels the beginnings of the same feeling that had hit him so suddenly in his garden, the ones that sing to his emperor and ring out in glory when the weight of the ball touches his open palm. this time, he doesn't try and dwell on why it comes to him in a place outside of the volleyball court — instead, he wholly embraces it and allows himself to stir in the excitement of it.

"it feels like i'm about to have a really difficult match."

tendou lets out a soft, sqawk-ish noise of 'hah?' as he follows after his best friend. "with uchida-san? what? you're competing against her or something? did you guys make a bet?"

ushijima shakes his head. "i want her to become the club manager."

club manager? tendou's expression turns puzzled. as far as he knows, neither the captains nor the coaches had ever expressed a need for one, and he's of the opinion that they've been doing perfectly fine without one. so then, "why? i mean, that's kind of sudden, isn't it??"

and the answer he's expecting is perhaps that ushijima is thinking that having a manager will benefit the team somehow, perhaps in an odd, out of the box way that somehow makes sense and that could only come from ushijima's sometimes abstract thought process—

"i want to show her what it means to have something important enough to make a big sacrifice."

and with that, tendou's brain stops.

"huh?"

ushijima doesn't react to his friend's obvious confusion, continuing with his explanation as if he's merely discussing the weather. "she said that she doesn't have anything that she thinks is important to her, so i want to show her what's important to me to make her understand."

tendou blinks owlishly. the pair of them swiftly descend the two flight of stairs until they're out in the open corridor, passing by the outside science building. "why would that matter to you?" he asks. and really, he never believed wakatoshi to be a person who worries about how others live their lives. as far as he's seen from his friend, he's always been satisfied with minding his own business, unbothered by the worries of his peers and living his truth as he would see fit. so then why would he concern himself with the matter of how uchida makoto spends her time? "is she important to you or something?" aside from that, there's something that latches on to tendou's mind from ushijima's words that cause all his thoughts to create white noise in his head.

_to make a big sacrifice?_

he watches ushijima's gaze drift skyward as he dwells on the question. "not really," he supplies. "she just doesn't think that volleyball is enough to get into an arranged marriage for. i want to prove her wrong."

"ahh." a second passes him by. another second ticks right over his head and tendou nods to himself dumbly as he turns the words around in his head, rolling them like dice that clatter noisily inside his mind. the realization is slow, it comes with a sudden shocked cry as he turns wide eyes to the boy who walks with him.

"huh??!"  
════════════════

makoto arrives at the office building in tokyo at 1:22 pm, an hour and some minutes after the end of her lunch period.

she's swapped her school uniform for business wear. the white blazer and blue dress shirt in her uniform is replaced by a loose-fitting beige button-up, with the first two buttons left open so that the thin gold necklace she wears can rest against her skin. the long sleeves of it are cuffed up to her elbows and she styled the ends of it by tucking it under the waist of her black pants. the natural loose waves of her hair have been straightened and fall down her shoulders, the curtains of it pulled behind on one side to show off the delicate gold threader earrings that dangle from her ears. her lips, painted in a red gradient, are pursed as she eyes the entrance of shoreline group's tokyo branch. she's apprehensive to step foot inside the tall glass building that looms before her as the doors of them appear more daunting than even the gates of hell. she breathes one, long breath to clear her mind before she takes the first step.

the cool air condition inside the building causes a light shiver to run through her body, though she easily ignores the discomfort as she forces air into her lungs, tries to quell the beginnings of a headache until she could handle it at another time.

"uchida-san, good afternoon!"

there's a cheerful call of her name that pulls her attention to the smiling woman at the front desk. sato aimi, makoto recalls the young woman who'd so enthusiastically greeted her when she visited the tokyo office over a year ago. of light brown hair and golden eyes that shined brilliantly under the sunlight, she had just graduated university with a degree in business administration and worked with an enthusiasm that makoto found admirable. "sato-san," she gives her a graceful smile as she approaches the front desk, where she rests her black binder down to rest while she stands there. "please, i asked you to call me makoto — it's uncomfortable for you to be so formal with me since you're my senior." her words come with the sound of easy laughter as her shoulders relax, and it feels as if she learns how to breathe again in aimi's presence.

"well, it feels uncomfortable for me to be so informal with you considering you're technically my boss," the woman answers so easily, grinning when makoto sighs helplessly at her insistence. it's a familiar conversation that they've had before, and each time that makoto begs for her senior to abandon her formalities, she'll always answer similarly, without fail. "besides," aimi shrugs, "i'm not that much older than you."

"sato-san, you're already 23."

makoto receives laughter for her exasperated sigh, though the gesture is harmless and innocent in the endearment she holds for the older woman. she feels incredibly grateful that the secretary jokes around with her so comfortably. it's nearly impossible to dwell on the anxieties that squeeze her beating heart when aimi's laughter and easy-going nature envelops her with open arms and a warm smile. sato aimi, makoto thinks, possesses a charm that's so incredibly pure and childlike, and it lights up the grey and black-themed lobby like the sunlight that bleeds through the glass planes — it's inexplicably refreshing, and it allows her to let go of her worries if even for a second.

"tell you what," aimi hums as she leans forward. the teasing glint isn't lost on makoto. "i'll call you by your name if you call me by mine."

the second year can't help her smile widening in a show of defeat as she reluctantly concedes. "if that's what it takes for you to drop the formalities, i guess it can't be helped."

aimi's grin lights up with her victory. "i'm happy we could come to an agreement, makoto-san!" shifting her chair so that she could reach over for the office phone that sits in her work space. "are you leaving right after the meeting?"

makoto absentmindedly watches her daintily press her yellow-painted nails against the number dials before bringing the phone to her ear. the ringing is loud enough to be heard even from where she stands. "i should have time before my train leaves," she muses. her hand reaches for her phone in her back pocket and she lights up the screen to check her notes. "—yeah, it leaves at 5:25."

"awesome!" aimi cheers. "wanna come with me later? there's this cute themed cafe i want to visit— hi! yes, uchida-san!"

her voice switches out of the familiarity that she'd settled for with makoto when uchida shinsuke picks up the line, resumes the role of the dutiful and enthusiastic secretary. makoto patiently waits for her from across the black marble-top counter.

"yes... yes's she's with me now. sure thing, i'll send her right up — it's no problem at all, sir! alright— yes, of course."

the line dies and aimi replaces the phone back into its holder before she turns her attention to her junior. "so?" she urges, "what do you say?"

makoto's smile turns gentle in the face of her excitement. "sure, i'll go with you." she can't help but be infected by aimi's good mood as she watches the brown haired woman clap her hands once in satisfaction.

"great!" she beams happily. "we should have enough time to walk around and go sight-seeing if we're lucky, so don't take too long in there—" the mischevious glint returns to golden hues, "makoto-chan!"

the chuckle that comes from her lips is entirely helpless and involuntary, though makoto doesn't fight it away and instead lets it warm her chest as she waves lightly in departure. "i won't, aimi-san," she promises, before she turns her back and begins to make her way to the elevator.

as the doors close to reveal her reflection on the mirrored interior, she glances down at her watch to check the time. 1:27 pm tells her that she's just over half an hour early for the start of her meeting with their potential partners, and she wonders if she should have spent more time with aimi before heading up. she quickly dismisses the thought with a quick shake of her head — aimi has work to do, and her presence at the front desk would only give the college graduate an excuse to procrastinate with the opportunity.

her journey to the 17th floor is, for the most part, undisrupted, with the expected stops at a few earlier floors popping in between to let in other office workers: men and women who each holds a cup of hot coffee in one hand and their documents and files in the next. they all greet her with a deep bow, all of them smile politely at her and wish her "good afternoon, uchida-san," before leaving her to herself, all of which she's grateful for. the silence that hovers inside the small space becomes a soothing kind of ambience with the exchange of people that come and go, where the sounds of polite 'ah, excuse me—'s and the day greetings that they offer as she shifts out of their way blend between the quiet murmurs of two female coworkers that board and depart the lift together, and the sound of pages lined with numbers and words all bunched up into charts that made no sense the longer the man on the other side of the small area stared down at them. it leaves her time to collect herself, to gather her thoughts and prepare for the next two hours that have all been planned out on the pages inside her black folder, with the name of the pitcher company printed in bold along with a compilation of all the information she was provided with, along with what she found on her own. listed are the questions she needs to ask and the bits and pieces of information that she thinks to be important to address with her presenters, lined in neat handwriting and sectioned off so that she wouldn't spend too much time flipping through pools of information to find what she would need the most. by the time her time comes to step out of the elevator, she's the last one left on the lift, and when she leaves, there's a void that waits to fill itself with the familiar melody of office-life once more.

it doesn't take her long to find the boardroom that she would be using after she grabs herself a cup of hot coffee from one of several machines placed around the building. its light grey walls, in comparison to the sky-view boardrooms that are on the higher floors, are incredibly modest, complemented with a dark brown wooden desk and two small plants on either side of the large presentation screen. a muted sigh falls from her lips as makoto rests her binder down, settling herself into the chair at the head of the table. there's an uncomfortably wide window of free time between now and 2pm, she bemuses to herself as she opens the black cover of her folder, beginning to thumb through the pages that she'd marked up and written her notes on; she figures that it wouldn't hurt her to revise what she already knows while she bids her time.

"makoto."

her name calls on an all too familiar voice, one that inspires a bitterness to stir around on her tongue and leave the taste of it like a metal weight. she lifts gunmetal blue eyes to find the dark greys of uchida shinsuke. she doesn't return her father's gentlemanly smile — she _can't,_ not when she still feels the remnants of searing anger and betrayal =over his decision to marry her out of their family business, to sign her name out of a promise made on business deals. looking at him now only serves to remind her of the night he told her of her engagement, the night when she realized just how little control she really had over her own life.

the metal of the train screeches loudly in her mind as it's thrown off its tracks, barrels towards her and collides with her body so that the world trembles.

uchida shinsuke, it seems, is entirely indifferent to his daughter's mood. he pretends not to notice the way she's carefully schooled her expression so that the makoto he sees is the business woman who he'd raised her to be. he knows all too well that she's still very troubled about several things, knows that she's less than pleased with them, but he also knows that she won't dare to discuss anything about her arrangement with him here, not when they're on their way to meet with their potential partners. when she dons her suit and meets him outside of their home, they abandon what fragile connections they had as father and daughter and present themselves to the corporate world as a business man and woman.

"you've prepared to meet our pitchers, yes?" the question he poses hides his demands and expectations beneath the false pleasantries of shoreline group's ceo, the man who expects his workers to be efficient and precise and unforgiving to frequent errors. makoto isn't unfamiliar with this side of him, and it's easy to adapt and conform to the expectations he quietly lays out for her. after all, this is all she's ever seen him as. everything that he'd ever shown to her had been of himself in a black suit, and his presence in her life as a caring father was so few and far between that it often times felt like a distant memory. he abandoned fairytales by her bedside to teach her office etiquette and investments. he built up an heiress, a young girl of sixteen who could tear entire empires down and build herself a throne full of cold money and bars of gold. he taught her that the world was hers to control — _"you bear my last name, makoto. the universe is your birthright,"_ and once upon a time, she believed him. she drank up everything he had to offer and created her world around that idea. she pushed herself until she cried blood, all to build that throne that her father promised was hers. she fought, and she kicked and she screamed, let herself fall headfirst into hellfire because _"papa said that I can rule the world."_

he never told her how heavy the crown would be.

"i am," she answers his question, lifting one hand so that she can turn one page of her notes over in its binder in show. "we should be able to come to an agreement with no problems if our discussion goes over smoothly."

"good," shinsuke hums at her affirmation, sounding pleased as turns again toward the glass door. "they should be here soon, so in the meantime i'll send your team up—"

"no, that's fine," makoto cuts him off. "i'd already contacted the team today to remind them to be here fifteen minutes beforehand and texted them again when i arrived here."

her father's smile widens some, as if through an expression of pride. despite her bitterness toward him, it still manages to touch her heart, and she internally bristles at the feeling of it — she hates how even now, a part of her still yearns for his approval. "alright then, i'll be here in time for the meeting to start." a pause, thoughtful in the seconds that pass them by before he adds, "your brother should be coming to stop by as well."

"haru's here?" that's news to her; it builds up into an uncomfortable weight in the pit of her stomach.

shinsuke hums and busies himself with fixing the cuff of his sleeve. "he stopped by after his classes finished," he supplies easily. something tells her that him stopping by their tokyo office isn't too uncommon. she doesn't respond to him more than an absentminded nod, taking a sip of her coffee so that she could enjoy the sweetened flavour of it. the news is... unexpected, she'll settle for that calling it that, but it shouldn't make much of a difference whether he's there or not. the most he'll be there for is simply to observe — that in itself won't be too much of a problem for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i def spent a lot of time on this chapter because i got stuck at several important points, unsure of how to carry them/transition into the next scene, but this is the end result! it was supposed to be longer but uhh, the next few scenes and details i would have added would have needed at least another 2000 or so words to show and i didn't want the count to get too long :v and it was kind of hard to transition into it with how everything was already set up? so i'll go with this decision to split this chapter in two
> 
> i also suck at describing someone's clothing, could you tell??? i don't know if you all can see the same image of business woman makoto that i have in my head, but i guess that's where i should leave it up to your interpretation!
> 
> as always, i love to hear back from you guys! leave me your comments and tell me what you liked/didn't like about this chapter! if ever you'd like to, my tumblr ask box is open so you can send me your thoughts through there! username's @/chunhua-s  
> thank you for reading!


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